


Your Bed

by s2dvd2



Series: The AU™ [2]
Category: All Time Low (Band), Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Anal, Blowjobs, Fingering, M/M, Makeup Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Reunion Sex, So yeah, all things considered though, and eros is also briefly mentioned at the end as well, and he is desperate, and some fluff at the end, anyway, bc hoo boy, but understand that the pairing makes more sense in context, enjoy this if u read it, he's loud, he's needy, he's whiny, i know this ship is weird as all hell, i think that covers the smut, if u enjoy alex being a bottom bitch u will enjoy this fic, my sweet son whom i love, ok listen guys, so uhhhhh, there's some angst at the beginning, they're part of a huge au my friend and i have and love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:57:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17298215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s2dvd2/pseuds/s2dvd2
Summary: “Fuck you— God, fuck you, you're not off the hook yet you bastard, I'm still so fucking mad at you, y’know, I—”“I'm pretty sure I can get you to forgive me, sweet thing.”





	Your Bed

It’s only been, what, two weeks? a month? since Alex told Apollo to get out of their (well, it’s not _theirs_ anymore, it’s back to being just Alex’s again) apartment, but never in his interminable life has such a short amount of time felt so _long._

It feels like it's been forever since that argument. It hurts like it's been that long, too. Part of Apollo is infuriated about— especially the fact that Alex kicked him out— but mostly he's just… sad. Deep down sad, right in the centre of his chest where it all hurts and throbs and reminds him of just how badly he fucked this up.

Apollo’s called him four times now. He doesn't want to be overbearing and drive Alex away even more by calling several times every day, but he can't just sit around doing _nothing_ to try and fix this. It’s his fault, after all, so it’s up to him to do something about it. The first three times he called, Apollo was met with only the answering machine saying “leave a message after the beep” in that achingly familiar voice that he misses and yearns after, and he was grateful that he neglected to change the answering machine to something that showed he lived there too despite always saying that he was going to (however, he never once left a message after the beep— Apollo is _much_ too proud for that). The fourth and final time he called, though, he was met with the real thing, the _real_ Alex and not just the automated version, telling him to stop fucking calling him and go to hell. Even though the statement sent daggers through his veins, Apollo smiled just the tiniest bit when he'd hung up that time because at least Alex had actually answered.

But merely calling every few days has gotten him nowhere, and the amount of guilt weighing on his chest is driving Apollo positively insane.

So insane, in fact, that he finds himself standing outside of Alex's apartment one night, a bouquet of roses in one hand, determined to make all of his wrongs right, his fist hovering in front of the door, hesitant, too afraid to actually knock.

Apollo has debated doing this for a while. He doesn't think this is going to go well— he's expecting them to fight again, truth be told— but he's willing to take that chance. If he doesn't, he runs the risk of losing Alex forever, and that thought keeps him awake at night, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling until the sun inevitably rises again.

With his heart pounding uncomfortably in his throat, he finally sucks up every ounce of courage he possesses in his 6’7 frame and knocks on the door. Apollo clasps his hands behind his back after he knocks, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet together to distract himself from the bundle of nerves twisting and untwisting in the pit of his gut. He hopes that Alex comes to the door, but he also kind of half-hopes that he doesn't, if for no reason other than it would soothe the stress currently compounding in his bones.

The sound of footsteps padding towards the door causes the ball of nerves to shoot up into his throat, right around where he can also feel his heartbeat threatening to strangle him. Alex calling out a simple “coming” only causes the ball to harden into a knot that Apollo knows he won't be able to swallow back down again. At this point, all the courage he sucked up before has abandoned him in blind panic.

Alex opens the door with a neutral expression that quickly turns sour just as soon as he sees Apollo standing there. With a hard frown, he tries to slam the door in his face, but Apollo holds his hand up and catches the door before Alex can get it closed.

“Go away,” Alex shoots at him, tone as angry as the look on his face.

“Wait, Alex—”

“I said go _away,_ David,” Alex interrupts through gritted teeth.

“It’s, ah… My name isn’t David, it’s— it’s Apollo,” Apollo corrects softly.

“Right. Sorry. Apollo. I forgot.” Alex pushes harder against the door, almost desperate to get it closed and keep Apollo out of his apartment and his life. “Leave me alone. I don't want to talk to you. Goodbye.”

Apollo, much stronger than Alex could possibly ever dream of being, effortlessly resists his attempts to get the door closed. In a small panic, he offers Alex the bouquet in his hand. _“Wait—_ I brought you roses—”

“I don't want your stupid fucking flowers. Leave me _alone.”_

“Alex,” Apollo tries again, “please, just— can we talk?”

“No, we most definitely cannot. Good _bye_ Dav— Apollo.” Once more, Alex tries to shut the door. He puts more force in this time, to show that he _means_ it, that he wants Apollo to leave his front stoop and leave him alone forever while he's at it, but his efforts are just as fruitless now as they were before.

“Alex.” The unusually desperate nature of Apollo’s voice gets Alex to look up at him with narrow eyes. Apollo can feel his heart in his throat again, and he swallows uneasily around it as he tries to remember how to speak. Finally, he manages a small, “Please.”

The word comes out as a whisper, but maybe that was for the best. Alex's steely resolve seems much weaker than it was two minutes ago. He opens the door rather than trying to close it again and steps aside, jerking his head towards the interior of the apartment.

“Fine,” he concedes. His brows are furrowed as he casts another angry glance up at Apollo. “You can stay and we can talk for ten minutes, but then I want you _gone._ You got that?”

“Yeah, I— I got that,” Apollo says as he steps inside; he can feel Alex's eyes on his back, but he doesn't entirely mind it. This is the most interaction Apollo has had with him in gods know how long— he'll take anything he can get. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Alex mutters as he closes and bolts the door.

Apollo stands in the centre of the small living room and looks around. A weird feeling creeps up his spine as he looks around the apartment they once shared. Some of his things are still scattered about, probably exactly where he left them when Alex told him to leave. He wants to smile at the fact that Alex kept his things and didn’t throw them out, but he doesn’t think that such a gesture would sit too well with Alex if he did. Apollo offers the roses to Alex again as the pink haired boy moves around him to get to the kitchen, and Alex hesitates before he finally takes them, frowning and his eyes narrowed slightly. Alex doesn't thank him. Apollo watches Alex lay the bouquet on the small kitchen table before he begins to make tea, despite the fact that neither of them like tea very much. The silence makes his throat burn.

“I’ve missed— I _miss_ you,” Apollo finally says, biting the inside of his cheek as soon as the words leave his mouth. He needed to say _something_ to keep this entire visit from being a waste, but in hindsight, maybe picking _that_ to start with wasn’t the smartest decision he’s ever made.

Alex snorts, and Apollo's pretty sure he rolls his eyes too, but he doesn't say anything in response. He just continues watching the water boil, visibly annoyed and frustrated, most likely at the fact that he somehow let Apollo convince him to let him inside.

“Well, I do,” Apollo forges on. He’s already said it, he might as well stick with it. Besides, it’s true, and he’s nothing if not honest. “I miss you a lot— all the time, and I—”

“And that’s your own fucking fault,” Alex says darkly. His gaze finally flickers towards Apollo, just as hard as it had been at the door. “You created the problem, and now you're stuck dealing with the consequences, no matter _how_ unpleasant you may find them. And that's not _my_ problem, so please, do me a favour and shut the fuck up about it.”

Apollo stops himself from making a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Alex opens one of the cupboards and begins looking for a cup to make tea in when the water finishes boiling. Things grow quiet; Apollo can hear their breathing underneath the ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional sound of traffic whirring by outside.

The tea kettle whistles. Alex removes a mug from the cupboard. Apollo decides to take a different approach. “I know I fucked up—”

“Damn right you fucked up,” Alex quips as he pours the hot water into a mug (the one that Apollo got him for Christmas, he can’t help but notice).

Apollo's lips harden into a thin line at Alex’s words, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to fight again. He takes a half step towards Alex, who turns to glare at him until he stands still again. Apollo hesitates, then adds, “I fucked up, and I'm sorry about that, but I want to fix us—”

“There's nothing to _fix_ , don't you understand that? You lied to me, and—”

“I never _once_ lied to you,” Apollo interjects angrily. “I _can’t_ lie to you, I’ve _told_ you that— I’ve only _ever_ told you the truth—”

“Then why did you tell me your name was David?” Alex sneers. “Why _lie_ and not just give me your real name? Are you really so fucking full of yourself that you think you’re the only guy on the planet named Apollo?”

“I thought it would be less suspicious to use David!” Apollo snaps. Admittedly, he sounded much harsher than he originally intended to, but he isn't about to apologise for that, even if he feels that he should. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly before continuing. “Look, I’ll admit, I did… keep things from you, about myself and my family and whatnot, but I had _reasons_ for that, I told you that, and— and things _changed_ , Alex, I—”

“It doesn't fucking matter that things _changed,_ David!” Alex spits without even bothering to correct himself. Apollo doubts he even noticed his error. Alex turns to glare at him, his eyes burning with a fury Apollo doesn't think he's ever seen in him before now. “Don’t you understand that? It doesn't matter!”

“Well it should!” Apollo spits back. He fights the urge to cringe a small bit at the way his voice rises and warps. Gods, he didn’t want to argue, yet here he is and here they are, doing exactly that. He fights to keep his voice level as he says, “It _should_ matter that things changed— that _I_ changed—”

Alex slams his mug onto the kitchen counter with enough force to send some of its contents sloshing over the rim and onto the fake linoleum. “It fucking _doesn't!”_ His voice is high pitched and angry when he speaks next. “You were _using_ me! You led me on with the intentions to just— to just _drop_ me once I wasn't useful to you anymore!”

Apollo's nostrils flare in growing frustration. He didn't want this to happen. “Alex, I’ve repeatedly said that I'm sorry—”

“Sorry isn't going to change a fucking _thing_ David— Apollo, God, whatever the fuck your real name is!” Alex shouts. “You used me, and— and you treated me like shit, and you—”

“So, what, people can't change? Is that what you're saying?” Apollo fires off, temples throbbing as his eye no doubt begins burning red. “So you've _obviously_ never changed from the way you used to be in the past, right? You’re still a cheating bitch and a felon— a murderer nonetheless, according to _you_ , anyway—”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Apollo immediately regrets it; he knows he crossed several lines in saying that, and he just wants to scoop the words up and swallow them back down.

Alex’s expression shifts from just pissed off to enraged and hurt. “Fuck you,” he hisses. “God, fuck you! You’re such a fucking _asshole_!”

Apollo takes another step towards Alex as guilt crashes against his chest. “I’m sorry—”

“Shut up! Just shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”

“Alex—”

“Jesus Christ, I told you to shut the fuck _up_!”

Alex punctuates his statement by throwing his mug directly at Apollo’s head. Apollo ducks, just barely missing it, but scalding tea drenches his arm. Luckily he hadn’t taken his coat off when he came inside, so it didn't really burn him as much as it just got him wet. The fact that it happened is enough to piss Apollo off, though.

Apollo teleports directly in front of Alex, startling him and causing him to curse under his breath. He grabs Alex’s wrist and pins it against the wall behind him, and Alex pulls on his wrist. He hits Apollo’s chest with his free hand; Apollo grabs his other wrist and pins it beside his head in partnership with the other as a response.

Alex glances up at Apollo with hard and angry eyes. “Let go of me,” he spits through his teeth.

“Not until I know you won’t try to throw shit at me and hit me again,” Apollo growls back.

They're so close together like this, close enough for Apollo to feel Alex's breath when he exhales and smell the fading yet all too familiar scent of lavender soap coming from his skin, and he catches himself staring directly at Alex's mouth. Apollo subconsciously outlines the familiar curve of his lips before he drags his gaze back up to meet Alex’s eyes.

“What are you staring at?” Alex mutters. He still sounds pissed off.

It hits Apollo like a truck just how much he wants to kiss Alex. He doesn’t think he should want to, considering the fact that Alex just threw a ceramic mug at him— at his head, no less— but he does. They’ve been apart for so long, and he’s missed him so _much,_ and now he’s got Alex pinned to the wall, hovering over him with their lips less than inches apart.

“Goddammit, _answer_ me, you fucking dick,” Alex snaps as he once again tries to pry himself from Apollo’s grip, and it draws Apollo’s gaze from his lips back to his eyes again. “I’m so sick of you _doing_ this shit.”

It wouldn't be _hard_ for Apollo to kiss Alex. All he would need to do is duck down and close the gap between them to press their lips together. He leans in to do so, but he stops short, hesitant, with his mouth less than inches from Alex's, lips slightly parted. They both go silent, save for the sound of their breathing.

Alex finally breaks the silence. “What are you _doing?”_ he whispers.

Apollo gently squeezes Alex’s wrists. “I was going to— I wanted to—” He stops short with his heart beating in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say next.

 _“What?”_ Alex sounds exasperated. Apollo can’t blame him.

“I… can I kiss you?” Apollo finally asks in a soft, yet very strained voice. “Please?”

The question surprises Alex; that much is evident in the way confusion glosses over the anger in his eyes as he glances between Apollo's mouth and his eyes. He wasn't expecting him to ask, and why should he? Apollo hasn't asked to kiss him since their second or third date, which was sometime last year. Hell, Apollo even surprised _himself_ by asking.

He's starting to regret asking, though. He can't read Alex's face to figure out what he's thinking. After the initial change from indignation to bewilderment, Alex's expression went back to being guarded, and Apollo has this sinking feeling in his gut telling him that this is Alex's way of saying no. It's disappointing— to be so close like this only to be rejected— but there's nothing Apollo can do about it.

He starts to let go of Alex's wrists so he can leave before he causes any more trouble, but before he can, he feels a pair of lips press against his own. The suddenness of Alex's kiss surprises Apollo enough to render him incapable of kissing back for several short moments. He certainly wasn't expecting Alex to kiss _him,_ but he's not complaining in the least.

The kiss is awkward, uncomfortable, and tense for several long moments. Alex's lips are plush and soft like they've always been, but they're not as inviting as Apollo is used to. It's like he's being apprehensive— like Alex isn't sure if he wants to kiss him or not. Apollo squeezes his wrists (while his grip is considerably looser, his hand still remains clasped around Alex's wrists, holding him against the wall), digging his fingers gently but firmly into his skin.

For some reason, it works. The tension melts away almost entirely, and Alex parts his lips ever so slightly. Apollo hesitantly runs his tongue along the seam of his lips; when he gets a soft sigh in response, he takes advantage of the opportunity being presented to him to tilt his head to the side just enough for him to easily slide his tongue into Alex's mouth. The action earns him a pleased little noise— Apollo relishes in it, mostly because he was afraid that he would never get to hear it again.

He lets go of one of Alex’s wrists. He reaches down with his now-free hand to trace his fingertips along Alex's jaw as he kisses him. Apollo gently brushes the pad of his thumb over Alex's chin, the tip of his thumb lightly brushing against the edge of Alex's bottom lip, and tilts his chin up so he can kiss him better. They easily find their rhythm, one they've spent a year perfecting, with lips slotting together effortlessly and turning their kiss from gentle to desperate in a short matter of minutes.

“God—” Alex breaks the kiss with a soft gasp. Their lips brush together as he speaks, and it takes all of Apollo's self restraint not to close the gap between them again and kiss Alex until he really can't breathe anymore. He watches as Alex's lips form the words, “You're so fucking _stupid_ , you know that?”

“I know, Alexander, I know,” Apollo whispers back. “And I'm so sorry—”

Alex cuts him off like he isn't even listening to him speak. “You're so _stupid_ and— and— and _insensitive_ and goddammit, you’re such an _asshole—_ but fuck, I—”

Alex’s lips return to his again, kissing him almost hungrily this time. Apollo feels Alex grab his collar and pull him closer to him. He slides his own hand from Alex’s chin to his hip, and he pulls him closer as he kisses him harder than he was before. He nips his teeth at his bottom lip; the pink haired boy lets out a weak, indiscernible sound before he pulls away again, breathless.

“But I don’t hate you,” Alex pants, picking up where his previous statement left off. “I know you think I do, and trust me, I _want_ to hate you— with every fibre of my being I really do want to hate your guts, but I _don't_ —” He interrupts himself to press their lips together once more, but he doesn’t keep his mouth against Apollo’s for long. “And I missed you, so incredibly much— and I hate that I did, but I— I fucking _missed you,_  Davey.”

Alex’s words halt with a gasp after Apollo dips his head down to press open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, tongue swirling over the dark red mark he sucks into his skin. He’s met with a soft moan-like noise as Alex moves his hand from his collar to his neck. He feels Alex’s nails scrape over the back of his neck, and Apollo can’t help but notice the way Alex's head falls back against the wall to expose more of his throat. He finally releases Alex’s other wrist and moves his hand to his other hip as well, gently squeezing as soon as his fingers curl around his waist.

“I missed you too bubblegum,” Apollo whispers. He drags his teeth over his throat, and he can feel Alex’s pulse jump under his tongue when he does. “Gods, I _missed_ you.”

Neither say another word, so Apollo sets about creating another mark to decorate his neck, taking his time in doing so just to be able to listen to all the pretty noises Alex makes. He pulls Alex's hips towards him to press them closer to one another because they're not close enough, there's too much space between their bodies after being apart for so long and it's driving Apollo insane— he _craves_ feeling Alex pressed against him.

Apollo just barely finishes the hickey before Alex knots his fingers in Apollo’s hair and pulls his head back from his neck. Apollo looks up to meet his eyes, and his breath stutters when he notices how blown Alex's pupils are.

Alex leans forward and brushes their lips together without kissing him. “Please— my room—”

As if he needs to be told twice. Apollo slides his hands from Alex’s hips to the back of his thighs, and his fingers hook around his legs. He lifts Alex up rather easily and closes the gap between their mouths once more. Alex wraps his legs around his waist and secures his ankles together as Apollo carries him down the short hallway leading to his room, squeezing his thighs against Apollo’s sides and grinding against him rather needily as the god bites down on his lip. Apollo smirks a little bit at how hard Alex already feels.

When they get to the little bedroom at the end of the hall, Apollo wastes no time in laying Alex down and pressing him against the mattress. They kiss for a while, but Apollo eventually leans up to take his coat off before he moves his lips to Alex’s throat. He kisses over the marks he had made earlier, lips light as a feather as they ghost over Alex’s skin. Alex moans weakly beneath him. Apollo smiles at the sound and pushes his hands under the shirt Alex wears, fingers splayed over his skin. His fingers roam over Alex’s chest and stomach as he goes lower, kissing down, down, down until his lips meet metal and he’s mouthing at the buckle on Alex’s belt.

Alex inhales sharply. Apollo looks up when he notices the way that Alex’s chest sort of stutters under his hand, a grin splitting across his lips. He inches down even further, mouth level with his crotch, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss against the fabric of Alex’s jeans with a soft hum. Alex softly gasps, breath stuttering again, his hand going to Apollo’s shoulder. His fingers dig in, grip weak, as he pushes his hips up.

“God— Apollo— b-blow me?”

Alex’s whisper echoes in the room, the words phrased as a question, hesitant and uncertain. Alex knows very well how much of a tease his (ex?)boyfriend can be, and Apollo picks up on his unsure tone— but for once, he decides to give Alex what he asks for without making him beg for ages to get it.

Apollo doesn’t say anything in response; he only removes his hands from Alex’s shirt and unbuckles his belt, fingers fumbling slightly. As he does, Apollo scatters kisses along Alex’s hips and waist like afterthoughts, small and gentle, yet they still make Alex whine loud enough to disturb the people in the neighbouring apartments. Eventually, Apollo gets the belt loose. He has less trouble popping the button, taking the little clasp of the zipper into his mouth afterwards and slowly— because he _is_ still an incessant tease at heart— pulling it down with his teeth.

Alex mumbles some weak noise at the minute vibration the zipper causes against him, but Apollo doesn’t hear him. He’s too busy with yanking Alex’s jeans down. He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the fabric of Alex's boxer-briefs covering his dick, eliciting a moan from the other, before stripping him of those as well, and he runs his fingers along Alex's legs as he moves his hands back up to his hips to secure them in place against the mattress.

Apollo bites his lip and glances up at Alex. He's always thought that Alex is stunning from this angle— chest and stomach on display, both heaving as he pants to breathe, and it's so pretty, so _delicious,_ even, that Apollo licks his lips and—

“Oh my _God_ —”

Alex gasps when he feels Apollo’s mouth close around the tip of his dick. Apollo’s fingers tighten on his hips as Alex tries to push them up, holding him firmly in place against the mattress. He feels Alex’s fingers squeeze harder at his shoulder in response before moving into his hair as Apollo sinks down, cheeks hollowed out, tongue pressed against him. He doesn’t stop until his nose presses against the skin of Alex’s groin; he stays still for a long moment, breathing slowly and closing his eyes before he begins to bob his head (slowly, always slowly).

Alex cries out when he starts, pulling Apollo’s hair and straining uselessly against the god’s hands. Apollo moans softly, and the gentle vibrations he creates cause Alex to whimper, the noise almost embarrassingly loud in the small room. Apollo opens his eyes again and directs his gaze upwards. As he had hoped, Alex is watching him— eyes hooded, mouth slightly ajar— and he groans when their eyes meet.

“Ah— _fuck,_ God, _ohhhh_ my God _—_ babe— just— _please—_ ” Alex cuts himself off with a throaty whine, desperate and needy, as he once again tries unsuccessfully to push his hips up.

Apollo hums in response to the pink haired boy’s cry. He pulls back, sucking on the head of Alex’s cock, swirling his tongue for good measure, before pulling off completely.

“What?” Apollo asks. His voice is soft, almost innocent— he’s good at this, and he knows it. He repositions his hand to press his thumb in the crease between Alex’s thigh and hip, dipping his head down to lick teasingly at his dick. “What do you want?”

Alex groans his name, and the sound of it makes Apollo grin, his body tingling and warm with something that isn't necessarily arousal. It's something just as pleasant, though, kind of like l—

He pushes the thought way, way down before it has time to fully form, and Alex tightens the already steel-like grip he has on Apollo’s hair. “Want— want _you_ ,” comes his whimpered reply. “Want you to fuck me, hard, _please—_ God, make me scream, I— _ohh—_ ”

Apollo swallows him back down again before he can finish his sentence. This time, however, the god wastes no time in immediately taking Alex to the back of his throat and keeping him there. He closes his eyes as he listens to the quick breaths Alex pants out. Apollo swallows around him, and Alex blurts out some warbled expletive, louder than the immortal thinks he meant to, and arches his back. If Apollo could smile, he would. He’s always loved that, thought it was hot as hell when Alex got loud— and Apollo knows that Alex is only going to get louder from here out, because he has absolutely no concept of volume control.

Apollo stays still for several more moments. Alex breathes out little moans, his fingers loose and then tight and then loose again, alternating, in his hair. Apollo starts to pull off again at the boy’s insistence for him to “move, fuck— please.” He moves slow and makes damn sure that his tongue is pressed hard against the underside of Alex’s cock, putting pressure on a vein that's going to make Alex choke on his air. Sure enough, Alex’s head falls back against the mattress again with a strangled noise half trapped in his throat, desperately attempting to claw its way out. Apollo moans, more for Alex's benefit than anything, sucking lazily as he finishes coming up, far too vulgar to be allowed.

After what feels like years but is more like a matter of minutes, Apollo pulls off once and for all. The wet _pop_ reverberates in the bedroom. Alex looks down again (he always looks down, he loves to watch), just in time to watch Apollo press a gentle kiss against the tip, and the god smirks at his breathless gasp.

“Whatever you want bubblegum,” he rasps.

Apollo shifts and leans up to mouth at Alex’s hip. He sucks a light red mark into his skin, and the red mark turns into a line of gentle kisses spanning across Alex’s waist to his other hip. With each kiss, Alex emits a soft whimper, the sound a muted one that lets Apollo know that Alex is biting his lip in an attempt to keep quiet.

 _That’s not going to work for long,_ Apollo thinks to himself as his mouth moves from Alex’s hip to the skin directly above his belly button. Alex pulls at Apollo’s hair, almost pulling him upwards, like he’s urging him to hurry up and reach his mouth so that they can kiss again. Apollo obliges easily. As their lips meet, he adds to his thought: _you never can keep quiet, no matter what you do._

But then they’re kissing, and all of Apollo’s thoughts on Alex’s inability to remain quiet dissipate. He can’t focus on them, not when he can focus instead on the way Alex slides his hands under his shirt, fingers grabbing at his shoulders after pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere across the room. It’s when Alex digs his nails into his ribs that it registers in Apollo's brain that they’re both wearing too much clothes— he’s still in his jeans, and Alex is still in his shirt.

Apollo pushes the hem of the other boy’s shirt up again, grinning at the startled gasp Alex gives him when he brushes the pads of his thumbs over the boy's nipples before Apollo pulls his shirt off of him. “That’s better,” Apollo mumbles, almost absentmindedly, into his mouth when their lips meet again.

“Almost,” Alex corrects, rapid fire. He breaks from the kiss again, eyes trained on Apollo’s lips for a few moments, and his hands go to the immortal’s belt. Alex pulls on the buckle. “You’re still in these. Take ‘em off. Now.”

“Someone’s awfully demanding,” Apollo teases, and Alex whines for him to “hurry up so you can fuck me,” but he's already gotten his pants off by then.

Apollo kicks his jeans off of the edge of the bed to land on top of the ones he’d stripped Alex of earlier, and Alex’s legs encircle his waist once they’re both naked. Alex wraps his arms around Apollo’s back to grab more firmly at his shoulders and grinds his hips up now that there’s nothing holding him down. Apollo, who had ducked his head down to kiss Alex’s neck some more, groans at the way their cocks slide against each other. Alex’s nails dig into his skin, pulling him down more. Apollo kisses him, and Alex bites greedily at Apollo’s lip, sucking it into his mouth to hide his own moan.

Alex’s neediness makes Apollo’s head spin. They’re skin on skin with no room between them, and all Apollo can think while they’re close together like this is how he was afraid that he would never get this again— never again get to feel Alex rutting his hips up against him, desperate for even the smallest of touches; never again get to hear Alex moan his name (and he certainly never thought he would get to hear Alex moan his _real_ name); never again get to—

Alex groaning in frustration cuts through his thoughts. “God _,_ _Apollo,_ just— just _fuck me_ already,” he pants, whiny, desperate. “It’s been weeks— now isn’t the time for you to be an eternal goddamn _tease_ —”

Although Apollo laughs softly at his words, he can’t deny the way his dick had throbbed at Alex’s tone of voice, especially when Alex had said his name. The throbbing sensation travels upwards to settle in his pelvis, and he grinds his hips down, drawing a moan from Alex’s mouth, before Apollo slides his hands along his sides until they reach his hips. One hand creeps lower, between Alex’s legs, to press his fingers against his perineum briefly (but it's still enough to make Alex’s breath catch completely in his throat) before finding way to his hole.

Before Apollo can push a finger in, though, Alex stops him. At first, he’s confused as to why, then he assumes it’s because he forgot the lube. Again. Apollo has a bad habit of that.

Mumbling, the god apologises, “Right, sorry bubblegum—”

Apollo leans over to open the nightstand drawer he knows the lube is stashed away in, but Alex grabs his wrist before he can reach it. Apollo stops and looks down at him, brows knitted together, confused. Alex stares back up at him with wide and innocently sinful eyes. There’s a churn in Apollo’s gut that crashes against his abdomen, multiplying with the sensation from before, and he inhales deep through his nose to keep from groaning.

“No,” Alex whispers. He guides Apollo’s hand back between his legs, and he directs his gaze downwards for a moment. He pushes his hips up, rubbing their cocks together again with a little whimper, desperate for friction, then looks back up at Apollo. “Don't waste your time with prep. I don’t need lube— don’t even need a condom— just need you, inside of me. Now. _Please._ ”

Apollo’s breath catches in his throat. “But I have to prep—”

“I don’t _need_ it,” Alex whines, careful to enunciate his words clearly, each one grating against his throat in a way that makes Apollo dizzy, “I just need _you,_ now— _please_ Dav— Apollo, fuck. Me. Fuck me.” His voice drops to a whiny yet seductive whisper. “Fuck me, now.”

Apollo blinks, speechless, unsure what to say or do. They’ve never skipped prep in the past, nor have they neglected to use lube and protection; Alex was pretty insistent that they use it all, actually, because it made him feel better, safer, when they had sex— sometimes even for oral. So this is… new, coming from Alex. But the way he’s looking at Apollo, his eyes dark, even darker than usual, with want— with _need_ , even— and the way he grinds his hips up again, grunting “please, please— _fuck,_ ” quickly makes Apollo’s mind up for him.

Once again, Apollo declares “whatever you want bubblegum” before he uses the grip he has on Alex’s hips to angle him better, to make it easier to go in. The little smile that Alex gives him after he repositions him sends butterflies shooting into Apollo’s chest, and he smiles back while simultaneously trying to squash down the fluttering in his ribcage. That’s the last thing he needs right now; he doesn’t want— doesn’t _need_ to think about the implications of what that might mean— which is nothing, because that’s exactly what it means. It doesn’t mean anything… maybe. _No_ , fuck, it _doesn't_ . Definitely not. _Not again._

Apollo growls softly at his own swirling train of thought and leans down to kiss him again. Alex makes a soft noise in response to the low rumble that emits from the back of Apollo's throat, and it’s a noise that quickly multiplies in volume when Apollo sucks his lip into his mouth. He knows Alex has a thing for lip biting— sucking too— and has known for months now, so he decides to capitalise on that. He bites down hard, hard, harder, until Alex can’t breathe without making some kind of throaty noise, each one tripping over the one before it to tumble into Apollo’s mouth.

Apollo takes advantage of his distraction to line himself up with Alex's hole. Alex lets out a shuddering little breath when he feels the head of Apollo's cock brush against him, almost like he's testing the waters, to see if this is really what Alex wants. When nothing else happens, he huffs against the god's mouth.

“Goddammit Apollo, if you don't _hurry the fuck up_ I'm going to flip us and ri—”

The rest of Alex’s sentence is swallowed whole by a sharp, choked off gasp from the back of his throat as Apollo pushes in.

“Oh fuck— oh fuck— oh _fuck—_ ”

The words come out in a pain-drenched moan, but they don't stop there. Alex spits a string of vulgarities through his teeth and arches his back up off the mattress, his nails digging almost painfully into Apollo's shoulders. He scrunches his face up and sucks his stomach in. His actions are a concentrated effort to draw himself up and away from the pain; it's hard for Apollo not to notice it. The immortal fits his mouth against the curve of Alex's neck, sucking on it to distract him, and he gently caresses his thumb over Alex's hips, so he can sap as much pain from him as he possibly can. Apollo reaches down between them, wraps his hand around Alex's dick to lazily jerk him off with the hopes that it forces his body to focus on the pleasure and not the pain, and continues pushing in until their skin is flush against one another— and then he stops.

Alex is still but not silent as his body gets used to the way Apollo feels inside of him. His breaths come out short and jagged, broken up only by long drawn out moans that send tingling sensations rippling down Apollo's spine. But Alex doesn't stay still for long; he groans and wraps his leg around the back of Apollo's thigh, then shoves him closer and deeper inside of himself with a short gasp.

“ _Move,_ ” he chokes, broken, a soft groan on the edge of his lips. “Please— _need—_ ”

Instead of words, what comes out of Alex's mouth next is a filthy whimper. Apollo moves, slow and gentle so he doesn’t hurt the pink haired boy underneath him. The resulting moans Alex makes are uncomfortable-sounding on some level or another. Apollo almost feels bad for him, since he knows this isn't the most… pleasant feeling in the world (not yet, anyway). He holds his breath, waiting for Alex to tell him to stop, that it hurts, because Alex is whining like it's too painful to deal with, but no such statement ever interrupts the steady flow of whimpers coming from his mouth. Apollo breathes out a small sigh of relief after several minutes and dips his head down to kiss between Alex’s collarbones.

Apollo presses his tongue against the flat, smooth plane of Alex's skin as he very hesitantly increases the speed of his thrusts. Alex mewls; Apollo notices that the discomfort in his voice is slowly melting away. Alex relaxes even more, which makes it easier for the both of them to actually enjoy the sex they're having. Apollo doesn't try to go faster or harder, though, at least not yet. This _is_ still their first time bareback together— he doesn't want to push Alex’s limits too far too soon.

Sticking to what he knows works, Apollo drops his mouth lower on Alex's chest, littering kisses from his collarbone downwards before finally attaching his mouth to one of Alex's nipples. Alex gasps a weak “ _fuck_ ” at the contact, the sound soft and wispy, but still audible nonetheless. Apollo sucks on his nipple, his mouth and tongue cold, eyes closed while Alex suffocates the room with a chorus of porn-worthy moans. The hand not on Alex's hip reaches up to tweak his other nipple, and Alex chokes on the neediest sound Apollo has ever heard him make whilst digging his heels into the mattress and arching his hips into Apollo's.

Apollo opens his eyes to gaze up at Alex then; he has his head to the side, teeth bared against the moans he's expelling and nose scrunched up in that (really really cute) way he sometimes scrunches his nose up when they have sex. Apollo makes a soft noise at the sight of him before he pulls his mouth off of Alex's chest. Alex whines unhappily at the loss, his mouth opening slightly and his fingernails digging into Apollo's back, while the god drags his lips, teeth, and tongue along the column of his throat before detaching them from his lover’s skin altogether. Apollo guides his hand from Alex's chest to his throat, fingers pressing firmly against soft flesh there immediately as they come into contact with it, his thumb hooked under the outline of his jaw. He pushes against the side of his jaw to force Alex to look up at him.

Apollo leans in to kiss Alex, his hand still (more or less) wrapped around his throat. He pushes their tongues against one another and graciously swallows the muffled set of moans that Alex starts to feed into his mouth as soon as their lips touch. Alex moves his hand from Apollo's shoulder to his hair, and he twists strands of the immortal’s hair around his fingers. He pulls on Apollo's hair to make him break away and stop kissing him.

“More,” Alex groans. Their lips brush together as he speaks. He rocks his hips down just a little to meet Apollo mid-thrust, adding, “Moremoremore, _please_ , I need _more,_ I need _you_ , need it fff— _fuck_ me, oh my _Godddhngh_ — faster and harder and— and—” before his voice catches mid-sentence and tapers off into a moan.

“Is that really what you want?” Apollo asks through his teeth, his lips now pressed to Alex's ear, voice strained, a slight growl peeking through the edges of his words.

Alex whines loudly and shivers ever so slightly at the feeling of Apollo's breath against his skin. “Yes,” he pants. “Apollo— yes— fuck— _yes—”_

He keeps chanting _“yesfuckyesfuck_ — _don't stop_ ” through a plethora of pleasured cries, his chest arching upwards into Apollo's as he's given exactly what he asked for. Apollo slides his hand from Alex's neck to his other hip. With fingers pressed into Alex’s skin hard enough to leave bruises blooming against the sweaty paleness of his flesh, Apollo pulls Alex towards him each time he snaps his hips forward. Alex mewls pathetically before he begins to curl his hips into Apollo's on his own; after that, each noise that grates past Alex's lips is in sync with the rhythm of their hips.

Alex untangles his fingers from Apollo's hair with a desperate moan of his name, and he shifts one of his legs upwards to wrap around Apollo's waist. As he does, he wraps his free hand around his own dick. Apollo feels him dig his nails into his shoulder and pull him closer to him as he sloppily starts to jerk himself off. Alex whimpers, desperate and craving something, anything that will send him over the edge.

While Alex chokes on his air, garbled words and various noises clogging his throat as he fists his cock, Apollo attaches his mouth to the pink haired boy's jaw, his tongue pressed against sweaty skin as he bites down, sucking and leaving behind a bright red blossom on the underside of his jaw. Alex groans, needy and much louder than he should be, considering how late it is, and Apollo laughs softly against the hickey.

“And to think, I had almost forgotten how much of a loud little bitch you are, bubblegum,” he teases. His voice is dark and sultry, and he revels in the whorish moan that bypasses Alex's lips.

“Fuck you— God _, fuck you,_ you're not off the hook yet you bastard, I'm still _so_ fucking mad at you, y’know, I—”

Alex stops mid-sentence with a sharp inhale as Apollo rams deeper inside of him. “I'm pretty sure I can get you to forgive me, sweet thing.”

“You— you’re— fucking— fuck— _fuck,_ David—”

“That’s not my real name, sweetheart,” Apollo murmurs.

Alex groans. “God— I don’t fucking _care_ what your real name is, just, please— _please_ , don't stop, don't _stop_ — _need—_ you, I need _you_ —”

Alex tosses his head back and his hips up with a shaky moan. A shudder slowly works its way through his muscles, and he clenches his jaw, but not so much so that he's unable to cry out for Apollo anymore. Apollo hungrily darts his tongue over his grinning, swollen lips as he eyes the exposed skin of Alex's throat. He brings his mouth to hover over Alex’s pulse, yet not once looking away from his face. His mouth lingers there for a few moments, his breath washing over Alex's throat, before he finally bites down, _hard,_ harder than he has any time before.

Alex yelps. The sound warps in his mouth, morphing into a noisy groan before it becomes Apollo's name, drawn out and sticky against his teeth. Apollo squeezes his hips in response. He growls against his skin, eyes closed, tongue pressed hard against the salty sweat he tastes. Alex flicks his wrist— whether or not it was unintentional or on purpose is unknown— and twists his hand. He groans again.

“David,” Alex whimpers. Apollo lets it slide this time without correcting him. “Please, I need— _please_ —”

“What?” Apollo pulls back, a thin line of spit delicately connecting his lips and Alex's neck. “What do you need?”

Alex doesn't respond. He's far too busy meeting Apollo's hips and jerking off to try and form a coherent thought, let alone voice a clear answer.

Apollo hums. He noses along Alex’s jaw, kisses the side of his mouth before he pulls away completely to hover over and stare down at him. Alex catches and returns his gaze, hooded eyes almost entirely black with arousal, his irises swallowed by his pupils, which are blown wide, ink against chocolate. Apollo's voice drops impossibly low, his words merely a low rumble echoing from the back of his throat.

“Pretty boy needs to come? Is that what you need?”

Another full body shudder racks Alex as he nods frantically, and it makes Apollo feel hot all over, burning coils settling in his pelvis at the knowledge of the effect he has on his boy. “Yes— p-please,” Alex stutters. His voice is high pitched, almost splintered. “Please, I—”

He's shushed by several kisses pressing against his lips. Despite the kisses moving behind his ear, his broken pleas still come in spades. Alex mewls, keening into the soft touch of the god's lips on his skin, his muscles tensing up. Apollo picks up his pace, and he shoves in deeper, much faster than he had been a few minutes prior. Alex cries out for him repeatedly, the breaths he's gasping into his lungs becoming shorter and choppier with each passing moment. He digs his nails into Apollo's shoulder. Apollo groans; his fingers tighten on Alex’s hips and he pins them back down against the mattress before he speaks.

“Then why,” he purrs darkly, and Alex whimpers, squeezing his dick in his hand, “don't you come for me, Alexander?”

Apollo grins, and Alex grunts a sharp expletive through his teeth. Apollo breathes out a soft groan and hides his face in the boy's neck as, with an explosive whine, Alex arches his back and comes, weakly rutting his hips up into his hand and Apollo's hips as well, heels scraping against the sheets as he screws his eyes shut tight. All of his muscles slowly unlock themselves one by one. He moans as he jerks himself through his orgasm, muttering things ranging from his god's name to various expletives _;_ to muffle the cries coming from his parted lips, Alex bites hard on his lip. His nails drag down Apollo's shoulder blade, and several angry red lines welt up on Apollo's skin in their wake. Apollo doesn't even notice them.

Alex slowly relaxes, and he finally sinks back down into the mattress, loose and pliable. When Alex pulls his lip from his teeth, Apollo sees blood glistening on his skin in the faint moonlight that's streaming in from the window above their bed. He leans down to suck on the wound; Alex whimpers softly as Apollo presses his tongue to his lip to heal the tear in his skin. Alex’s hand goes from his dick to the sheets, first to shakily wipe it clean and then, as the immortal starts grinding his hips into him again— Apollo had decided to stop moving while Alex came, but now that he's finished, there's no reason for him to remain still anymore— to grip the sheets so tight that his knuckles turn white.

Apollo picks up right where he had left off, with deep and hard thrusts into Alex's arching hips, making the pink haired boy whine. Alex lets his head falls to the side, his lips parted so that his grunted noises easily leave him, and an all-too-familiar light pink blush dusts his cheeks, as it always does when they fuck. Apollo slides his hand from Alex's hip to wrap around his thigh, grip firm, prying his legs further apart than they previously were; spreading his legs even more presents Apollo with the opportunity to press in deeper. He doesn’t stop pushing in until he’s sure that Alex can feel the gentle sloping curve of his hip bones against the soft flesh of his ass. Alex whimpers not so softly, and Apollo digs his fingers into his skin and snaps his hips forward with a grin.

Alex cries out and squirms every time Apollo moves inside of him, hypersensitive, his fingers twitching against the god’s back and his legs spasming. Apollo can feel his thighs shaking a little at his side and in his hand. His fingernails prick Alex's skin, and he knows that there are going to be bruises in the shape of his fingers to spring up on Alex's thighs as well as on his hips once they’ve finished fucking. He likes that, and he doubts the boy will mind— Alex has always liked the physical markers of their sex; this should be no different. Alex groans not so softly, and he pulls hard at the sheets, which are twisted tight around his fist. His nails bite into Apollo’s back; he pulls him closer. Apollo hisses quietly by the edge of the boy’s jaw, his teeth knocking against flesh stretched tight over bone.

He runs his hand from Alex’s hip and over his ribs to stop by his shoulder. He pushes himself up, poised above him. Alex turns to look up at him— his eyes are hooded and slightly unfocused. He unravels the sheets wound up in his fist, and he moves his arm to halo his head, hand laid near where Apollo’s hand also rests in the pillows. Apollo smiles down at him a little bit.

His eyes flicker over the way Alex looks with his sweaty, bright pink bangs plastered to his forehead, the rest of his hair sticking up in all directions from the amount of thrashing he's doing. His mouth hangs open in a small, silent _'O’_ ; the _'O’_ grows wider when Alex throws his head back and arches up against Apollo's hips, a loud moan breaking from the centre of his chest to beat back at them. Apollo allows his gaze to sink lower, over the boy's heaving red chest and sticky white stomach, to Alex's hips. They're slick and glisten with the mix of their sweat when the light catches his skin. _Pretty_ , Apollo thinks. His eyes return to Alex's face and neck— especially neck. The shadows make the hickies and bite marks look darker than they really are, appearing more purplish than red, but Apollo likes that. The whole point of sucking and biting Alex’s throat like that _was_ to bruise him, after all.

While the immortal admires him, Alex clenches the hand above his head into a fist, and his nails dig into his palm; his eyes roll back into his head for a few short seconds. He bites his lip again, his tongue pressed against the spot where Apollo had healed him. He's already semi-hard again, something that Apollo can feel as their bodies slide against one another each time he moves.

“You’re hot when you're like this, you know that?” Apollo groans softly.

“Like what?” Alex finally pants.

“Like, y'know—” Apollo stops to punctuate his grunted “— _this”_ with a sharp snap of his hips. Alex yelps at the sudden sharpness of the thrust. “Being fucked.”

Alex closes his eyes and tilts his head back, the yelp from a few seconds earlier melting into a groan at the immortal's words. The thrust was hard enough to push him up in the pillows; his head had almost knocked against the headboard, and Apollo used his tight grip on his leg to pull Alex back towards him after he noticed it.

“Yeah?” Alex whines, high in his throat. When he opens his eyes again, he catches Apollo's gaze and holds it as he speaks. “You really— _hnnnnghgnfuck_ — y’really think so?”

Apollo grins. He squeezes Alex’s thigh, and his smile widens at the soft noise that Alex makes in response. “Mm, of course I do Alex— I can’t lie to you, remember?” he murmurs. “You’re always hot when you’re taking dick, pretty boy. Especially mine.”

Alex groans again. He turns his head to the side, pushing his hips up off of the mattress as he does. Despite him turning away, Apollo can still see the way Alex’s cheeks shift from flushing pale pink to burning a bright hot scarlet in the dark, obviously flustered at the god’s words— as he usually is when Apollo starts talking dirty-filthy like this. Alex’s semi becomes a full hard on. The friction of their bodies pries another deep moan up from the depths of Alex’s chest and out into the room, where it curls around them like smoke.

“Oh,” Alex whimpers simply. “I— thank you— _hhnnnnhhfghfh_ —”

He sounds breathless, and it isn’t like Apollo can blame him— he’s _very_ aware of the fact that he’s a good fuck (better than just _good,_ actually, but he doesn’t want to sound _too_ full of himself), and it's not unusual for Apollo to leave his partners breathless. Alex is no exception— that’s what 3000-plus years of practice in the fine art of intercourse does for a guy. But that’s not the point. The point is that Alex is breathless, and he’s gasping out Apollo’s name every time he draws in a breath; his teeth are clenched against his broken words, as if he’s trying to keep how wrecked he sounds locked tight inside of his mouth. It doesn’t work in the least.

Alex looks and sounds like he’s shattering. Apollo finds it beautiful. Alex's voice is more splintered than it was five minutes ago. Tears form in the corners of his eyes, and they threaten to spill over and onto his cheeks every time their bodies meet in a collision of skin and faint slapping sounds. Alex blinks a few times to try and rid himself of the tears, but it doesn't work, and he settles on closing his eyes once more to combat the urge to cry from all the stimulation— it's so _much,_ probably more than he's ever felt in his life, and the burn of Apollo moving inside of him hurts but it's so _good,_ God it's such a good burn and he can't get enough of it (at least, that's what Apollo picks up in the tone of the whimpered mewls that slide from between Alex's teeth every other minute or so).

Alex's hand unclenches and inches towards his scalp. He twists strands of his own hair around his fingers, but he doesn't pull. Instead, he just lets his hand sit there, fingers tight, until Apollo thrusts slow and he practically stops. Alex opens his eyes again; his hand goes limp against the top of his head.

“N-no, don’t— don’t stop,” he groans. Apollo feels the hand on his back traverse his skin to grab at his lower back as Alex speaks. “Babe— don't stop, _please_ , A— _ah—”_

Alex’s statement erupts into a sob. Apollo digs his hips in deep, almost like he's trying to carve parts of Alex's body out one little piece at a time so that they fit together even more perfectly, and Alex's cry breaks from him in the form of a choked plea for something unintelligible. He grips his hair again and pulls, hard. The tears welling in Alex's eyes finally spill over, sliding down the sides of his face at the same time that his cock begins leaking precome. There's a weak sting that stretches from the base of Apollo's spine to his left hip, and he can only assume that it’s due to Alex dragging his nails through his skin again.

The sobs coming from Alex's lips die off after a few minutes. They turn into obscenely loud moans instead, and Alex shifts to wrap his legs around Apollo's abdomen, ankles locked together at his back. His muscles tense again. Apollo's hand glides over his skin, his nails lightly scraping against the pink haired boy's flesh as he makes his way to Alex's dick. Apollo wraps his fingers around him; his hand is cold, and Alex gasps in surprise, an expletive tangled up on his tongue, and arches his chest up into the god above him in response.

Apollo smirks as he slowly jerks Alex off. Alex stutters out several moans in a row as Apollo pumps him, and he lets his head fall to the side, fingers tight in his hair again. Apollo makes out a few more tears sliding down the side of his face in the silvery wisps of light streaming in from the window. They compliment the way Alex’s chest heaves as he starts to cry again.

This time, the tears last for a while. Each time Apollo snaps his hips forward, Alex makes some pathetic whimpery noise from the back of his throat and a few more tears slide out, only they trace the curve of his nose instead of leaving glistening tracks from his eyes to his hairline. When Alex turns back to face Apollo, they go back to disappearing in his hair again.

Apollo leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the side of Alex’s left eye. “I’ve never seen you cry during sex before, bubblegum,” he whispers, his breath hot. His lips brush against Alex’s wet skin as he speaks. “It’s kinda hot, y'know.”

Alex whimpers and keens up into Apollo’s hand. “Yeah, well you— fuck _, hnnnnghgGod—_ you’ve never fucked me quite like this before e-either,” he pants. “God Apollo, it’s— it’s so fucking _much,_ and— and it feels so _g—_ ah— _ah_ —”

Apollo cuts Alex off by brushing his thumb over the slit in the head of his cock, and he twists his wrist while he's at it. Alex chokes on his breath as he bucks his hips up. When Apollo moves his thumb, more precome dribbles out and over his fingers. He looks down, his eyes lingering for a few seconds before he looks back up at Alex, whose face is contorted in pleasure, and then down at his dick again. Apollo grins.

Apollo releases Alex’s dick only to reach up and grab his chin. He stops moving; Alex whines and pushes his hips down, desperate for some kind of stimulation. The movement causes Apollo to groan softly as Alex lets go of his hair to grab Apollo's shoulder.

“Apollo,” Alex whines pathetically. “Move—”

Apollo cuts him off by shoving his thumb into Alex's mouth. “Shhhhhh,” he whispers, pushing down on Alex's tongue. Alex makes a small noise and his eyelids droop. “No more talking, baby. Just watch me. I know you like to.”

Apollo pulls out in a single swift movement, and Alex whimpers quietly, unhappy at the empty feeling settling hollowly in his chest. Regardless, he begins sucking on Apollo's thumb as the god kisses down his body. Apollo feels the bed shift ever so slightly; he feels the hand on his shoulder disappear moments later. He glances up to meet Alex's gaze in the dark so that he knows Alex is watching him and finds that Alex had pushed himself up onto his elbows so that it would be easier to watch Apollo. When their eyes meet, Alex whimpers softly.

Without any warning and without breaking eye contact, Apollo pulls his thumb out of Alex's mouth the very moment he takes Alex's cock into his mouth. Alex gasps, jumbling different expletives up in his mouth, and pushes his hips up. The action forces more of his dick into Apollo's mouth, and he gladly takes it. As Apollo begins to bob his head, Alex moans, letting his head fall to the side. Apollo stops bobbing just as quickly as he’d started.

He reaches up and grabs Alex’s chin again. Apollo forces the boy to look at him, and he says, “I told you to watch me, so I expect you to watch me, Alexander.”

“‘M sorry Apollo, I—”

Apollo pushes two of his fingers into Alex’s mouth. “I also told you to stop talking.”

When Alex offers only a small moan in response, Apollo hums. He dips his head down to give a teasing lick along the shaft of Alex’s dick. Alex pushes his hips up with a straining whine, but he doesn’t look away. The god smiles.

“Good boy,” he praises. “Now watch me. And don’t _stop_ watching me.”

Apollo takes Alex’s cock back into his mouth to the sound of Alex groaning quietly around his fingers. He reaches up to wrap his free hand around Alex’s thigh to hold him in place while he blows him, and Alex hooks his knees over Apollo’s shoulders. Apollo feels Alex’s heels digging into his back, right under his shoulder blades. He pays it no mind. Instead, he swallows around Alex’s cock and sinks down until he feels him hit the back of his throat.

Apollo pauses long enough to breathe before he begins to bob his head again. Alex chokes on a groan, the sound muffled in his mouth. His head falls back on his shoulders, and he curls his hands into fists by his side. Apollo pushes down on Alex’s tongue. Alex gags just a little, and Apollo forces him to tilt his chin back down and look him in the eyes again. He stops and digs his fingernails into Alex’s thigh, a warning for Alex to keep his eyes on him.

Alex whimpers out a noise of submission, and Apollo moans in response. The vibrations travel from Alex’s dick to spread through the rest of his bones. Alex groans softly; Apollo feels Alex’s heels dig into his back as he pushes his hips up again. Apollo takes it with another moan, this time of appreciation. A hissed curse slips past Alex’s lips into the room, getting lost in the moonlight and the sucking sound coming from between the boy’s legs.

Apollo pulls back and swirls his tongue around the head of Alex’s cock to clear it of all the precome. Alex bucks his hips up in an effort to force his dick back in Apollo’s mouth like it was before and receives an admonishing smack against his thigh in return. He yelps in pain— as much as he can, anyway, with two fingers halfway down his throat, gagging him. Apollo presses his tongue against the slit in Alex’s cock before he pulls his fingers out of the pink haired boy’s mouth. Alex barely has time to miss them before Apollo shoves them inside of his ass. They slide in easily thanks to the coating of spit that came from being in Alex’s mouth.

“Oh, fuck— my God, _Apollo_ —”

Apollo exhales slowly when he feels Alex grab a fistful of his hair and yank on it. A quick glance up shows him that Alex once again let his head fall back onto his shoulders, and he slaps Alex’s thigh again as a final warning to watch. When Alex looks back down again, Apollo sinks back down on his cock, not stopping until his nose presses against Alex’s skin. He waits a few seconds before swallowing, and when he swallows, Apollo’s mouth goes cold. Alex groans, loud and filthy, his eyelids fluttering for a few seconds.

Apollo stays still and focuses his attention on fingering the boy in his mouth. He thrusts his fingers in deep, scissoring them apart and twisting them as he does, watching as Alex squirms and bites his lip to stifle all the whorish moans escaping him. Apollo makes a beckoning motion with his fingers, and he adds a third when he elicits a groan from the boy. Alex gasps and arches up. The arch of his hips nearly causes Apollo to gag on him, since he wasn’t expecting it, and he chokes— entirely for Alex’s pleasure, though, and nothing more— before recovering.

Apollo pushes his fingers in deeper, thrusting until Alex chokes and spits “God— God right there right there, _fuck_ —” through his teeth. Apollo hums triumphantly at having found Alex’s prostate, and he starts to bob his head. He matches his bobs with the speed of his fingers. In a mere matter of minutes, Apollo manages to reduce Alex to a whiny, begging mess (again), one who’s pulling on Apollo’s hair like it’s the only thing tying him down and being so loud that Apollo genuinely fears they'll get a noise complaint the next morning (it wouldn't be the first time they'd gotten in trouble for fucking too loud). Apollo makes out little diamonds glistening on the corners of Alex’s eyes at some point. If he could smirk, he would. Apollo had no idea would like seeing Alex cry when he fucked him this much.

“Apollo,” Alex gasps, his voice raspy. His eyelids droop to cover his eyes, which are half hidden by the mess of sweaty pink hair in his face. “Apollo— fuck— _please_ —”

Apollo moans, and he thrusts his fingers in as deep as he can. He beckons upwards. Alex yanks on Apollo’s hair hard enough to hurt and groans, pushing his hips down into the immortal’s hand, an attempt to get more of what he wants. Apollo can see his eyes roll back a little bit, so he makes the motion again, just to see Alex's eyes roll back— this time _all_ the way back— again. Alex lets out a guttural curse, one of his legs sliding off of Apollo’s back to press flat against the mattress. He pushes his hips up with a pant of moans.

“Fuck,” Alex manages to get out. He squeezes his eyes shut and repeats himself. His chest heaves with silent, pleasured sobs before he opens his eyes again, looking back down at Apollo. With his teeth bared, he groans, “Babe— Apollo, I— ‘m gonna— fuck— _come_ —”

Apollo moans (Alex gasps and cries out) and kicks what he’s doing into overdrive. He repeats the same series of motions with his fingers— thrusting deep and then curling upwards— only this time he adds to it by pressing his thumb against Alex’s perineum, knowing that his perineum is basically another G-spot for him. Apollo revels in the wheezy, whiny sobs Alex lets out, and the way his thighs shake every time Apollo moves, and the way he can feel Alex’s other hand in his hair now, trying to force him down on his cock with as much strength as he can manage as he leans back against the pillows.

Alex whines, the sound needy and desperate. Apollo looks up at him, and he digs his nails into Alex’s thigh as they make eye contact. He tries to convey _come for me_ with his eyes as he slowly comes up on Alex's dick and then sharply back down. Alex chokes, a cry caught in his chest, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. His grip on Apollo’s hair tightens to the point where it actually makes the god wince a little bit. Apollo flutters his lashes and moans, his tongue pressed against the underside of Alex’s cock and his fingers curled up inside of him. Alex cries out, loud, and more tears stream down his face. Once again, Apollo tries to get Alex to understand the message behind his eyes, only this time it works.

“God—” Alex’s voice is strained, and he’s panting like he can’t get enough air into his lungs (and truthfully, maybe he can’t). “Apollo…”

Apollo’s name trails off into a high pitched moan. Alex's mouth hangs open, his shoulders hunched in, and he eyes flutter before snapping completely shut. Alex ruts his hips one last time, and then he comes, straight down Apollo’s throat, with a strangled, wavering cry. He pulls hard on Apollo’s hair, forcing him down. Apollo nearly chokes, for real this time, as he swallows, but he _does_ swallow— spitters are quitters, and besides, he likes how Alex tastes. Apollo squeezes Alex's thigh once he’s swallowed. Alex responds with a loud whine. The whine ends with a grunt caused by Apollo pulling his fingers out of Alex’s ass and wrapping his hand around his other thigh.

Apollo doesn’t pull off of his cock immediately after Alex comes. He waits until he feels him start getting soft before sitting up, his eyes still trained hard on Alex. Alex has collapsed against the bed by that point, emitting gentle moans and noises periodically, his chest and stomach heaving in unison as he tries to remember how to think and breathe properly again. Apollo wipes the drool and come that had dribbled down his chin off on the sheets crumpled up beside of him. Once he’s clean, he presses a kiss against Alex’s inner thigh, then his hip, then his stomach, steadily moving upwards until he reaches his mouth.

“How was that bubblegum?” Apollo asks, hints of a smirk on the corners of his mouth.

Alex doesn’t offer a worded reply. All he does is whimper and shakily reach up to grab Apollo’s shoulder.

“I’ll take that it was good, then,” Apollo murmurs in response to himself.

He kisses Alex again— Alex feeds a pathetic moan into Apollo’s mouth at the lingering taste of his own come, but that’s all he really offers the immortal, and Apollo quickly bores of kissing someone who can’t kiss back. He pulls back and moves to mouth at his neck instead. As he gently kisses Alex’s throat, Apollo reaches down between them and starts to sloppily jerk himself off. He’d gone a bit soft while he was sucking Alex off.

Once he grows back to full hardness, Apollo lets go of his dick and uses his hands to spread Alex’s legs again, lining himself up. They’d wobbled kind of closed once Apollo had moved from between them. Alex, who’s fucked out and oblivious, pays Apollo’s actions no mind— that is, until he feels a push, and suddenly Apollo’s dick is inside of him again, unmoving.

“Oh fucking— _fuck—_ ” Alex groans and his back rises off the mattress at the sudden intrusion. “David— _Apollo—_ ”

Apollo cuts him off by biting his throat, and hard, which earns him a choked yelp of pain and pleasure. “What? Did you think that we were finished?” Alex nods, and Apollo chuckles softly. “I haven’t even come yet, Alexander.”

“Fucking— goddammit—”

Alex’s mouth falls open with a sharp, high pitched whine that breaks as he cries out, loud and through clenched teeth, as Apollo starts grinding into him once again. His nails bite hard into the flesh of Apollo’s shoulder, and he arches his torso up against the god above him. Apollo cages him in with his arms, one on either side of his head. He uses his own body to force Alex down, back flat against the mattress.

The room fills with every kind of sound imaginable to man. Alex, _super_ hypersensitive after coming twice in a row, can’t keep quiet, with needy moans and desperate, whorish whines bypassing his open mouth, and he certainly can’t keep still either. Every time Apollo moves, he spasms; his thighs shake and his hips twitch into Apollo’s thrusts. It’s a system that feeds itself and results in Alex crying— and _really_ crying this time, with sobs intermingled between the moans and tears making his face catch the moonlight more than the sweat does. Apollo doesn’t care how sensitive Alex is, though. Sure, his pace is even and calculated, but it’s hard and rough and fast, and it’s no wonder Alex is holding onto him so tight he’s sure to leave a few bruises in the morning (and maybe that’s exactly what Apollo wants).

Apollo dips his head down and presses their lips together. Kissing Alex distracts Apollo enough to slow him down a small bit; his hips stutter, but he keeps going, only it’s slow enough for Alex to handle without crying. He kisses Apollo back, his hands going from the immortal’s shoulders to his face, holding him there. It’s sloppy— teeth knock together and they bite lips more than they kiss them— but it’s good enough for them.

“I missed you,” Apollo whispers into Alex’s mouth. He thrusts hard after he says it, and Alex accidentally and unknowingly bites Apollo’s lip. The pain makes him groan as he repeats, “I missed you— so— fucking— _much.”_

Apollo punctuates each word with a sharp snap of his hips. Alex can’t speak for gasping for a few moments, and he’s still so breathless that his reply is raspy.

“Missed you too,” Alex whimpers. “So much. So much— _hhhnhhnnggn_ — God, fuck— fuck, _Apollo_ —"

Apollo cuts him off by kissing him one last time before he pushes in deep and then deeper still. Alex gets progressively louder as he squirms underneath him. He starts crying again, harder than he was before, messy sobs ricocheting around the room to squeeze back down his throat as he gasps for air. He gets half-hard again. The only word that leaves Alex's lips is Apollo's name, but it's broken, reduced to the single-syllable “Pol”— that's all his brain can come up with. That's all he remembers how to say.

Apollo pulls out for a brief moment— Alex grunts and whines, his eyes opening the slightest bit to glance down to try to see what the hell his sex god is doing. He looks down just in time to watch Apollo line up and ram into him again, and this time he hits Alex's prostate head on and the boy's brain explodes into static— all he can focus on is the feeling of Apollo inside of him and all around him, trapping him in and holding him there so he can’t get away.

“Pol— oh my God, fuck— _fuck me_ —” Alex’s voice rises with every syllable, but it’s strained, as if he’s holding back.

Apollo leans down to press their lips together in another extremely sloppy kiss. “C’mon bubblegum— be loud for me, you know I like when you’re loud,” he urges against the boy’s lips.

Ever the obedient one, the next time Alex cries, “Apollo—” his pitch is higher and his broken little voice echoes back at them from the thin walls.

Apollo half grins, half smirks at him. “Good,” he groans. Apollo snaps his hips forward hard enough to make Alex choke on his air. “But I want you to be _louder_ pretty boy— I don’t think the neighbours can hear you.”

Apollo pauses long enough to readjust to a new position, and when he does, he rams into the pink haired boy squirming under him. Alex finally lets loose with the scream that’s been hovering in the back of his throat, probably since Apollo started fucking him again. The scream starts in his chest and breaks outwards, splintered and visceral and oh, so loud.

The god grins and pushes his hips in deeper. “Yeah— that's my good boy— scream for me Alexander— my loud little bitch,” Apollo growls darkly against Alex's cheek

Alex claws along the length of Apollo’s spine, and although Apollo can feel blood bubbling to the surface of his skin, he pays it no mind. He doesn’t care if he’s bleeding. He cares about the way that Alex is screaming his name and crying _“fuck— fuck, fuck me Pol right there right_ there _God please right there_ fuck _— fuckmedon’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstopfuckplease—”_ so guttural and rough and _loud_ that his voice finally shatters and he's left choking on pathetic, wheezy sobs. Apollo cares that Alex’s fingers ache on his hips, so much so that Apollo thinks Alex is trying to pull him inside of him entirely, but he doesn't mind. He wants it— _craves_ it, actually. Anything to be closer to Alex is great by him.

Alex arches his hips up. His eyes are squeezed shut and he's shaking so much it would be frightening under any other circumstance. His cock twitches— Apollo feels it against his stomach. Apollo reaches up and wraps his fingers around Alex's throat. He squeezes, and if Alex could make any sort of noise besides the wheezing sob he's been stuck on for several minutes, Apollo's sure he would moan for him again. Alex tilts his head back and Apollo seizes his opportunity to attach his mouth to the exposed skin of his jaw. He bites him, hard; there's a painful burning on his shoulder blades. He's positive that Alex has scratched him in response.

“Come,” Apollo grunts against his skin. A choked moan vibrates against his palm as Alex wheezes, trying to communicate back with him. He squeezes tighter. “ _Come_ — fuck— _Alex_ —”

Alex whimpers and digs his nails into Apollo’s skin. His back arches. If he could moan— or make any sort of noise, for that matter— he would, but all Alex is able to manage with a wrecked voice is a few breathless puffs of air. Apollo can feel his chest heave, and he feels him go completely tense for a few seconds before his hips push down, desperate to take as much of Apollo’s cock as possible. Alex comes, somehow for a third time, toes curled into the sheets and fingers digging into Apollo’s skin.

Apollo feels Alex get tight, so fucking tight, around his dick as the boy comes. It feels— he can’t describe how it feels. It feels like everything he could ever want. It’s tight and hot and so much friction he hadn’t noticed before and so purely _Alex_ that it doesn’t feel possible. It only takes a series of sharp, sloppy thrusts for Apollo to come as well, his teeth sunk deep into the flesh of Alex’s right shoulder to muffle the groan scraping past his throat. Alex whimpers softly, fingernails dug weakly into Apollo’s biceps, his hips raising ever so slightly as the immortal fills him up.

Apollo weakly ruts his hips forward a few times, each movement met with an equally as pathetic moan from Alex, before he stops. He waits for his brain to reconnect to the rest of his nervous system before he finally pulls out. Alex whines quietly as Apollo pulls out and rolls off of him, but other than that, the pink haired boy is silent. They both are, actually, as they stare at the ceiling and listen to one another gasp for air, too afraid to actually initiate any more contact with one another, verbal or physical, in case it blows up in their face.

Alex is the first to move. He hesitantly slides closer to Apollo after wiping his face free of the tear tracks, and he presses himself against the god’s side. He rests his head against Apollo’s shoulder. It’s a while longer before they speak— they still have to catch their breath first, after all— and once again, it’s Alex who breaks the silence.

“'M still _so_ incredibly pissed off at you, y'know,” he mumbles. His voice is scratchy and hoarse, but he doesn't exactly sound angry. He sounds the opposite of it, actually.

It’s enough to make Apollo smile, tired. “Damn,” he says quietly back. “I was hoping that I could somehow get you to forgive me through good sex.”

“Mm, not quite. I’m not _that_ easy, asshole. I'm still _really_ upset at how much of an insensitive fucking tool you are.”

Alex makes a soft sound and rolls over so that he's laying with his head on Apollo's chest. He places his ear right over the god's heart to listen to it beat. Apollo feels Alex's hand seeking his out in the dim light of the room, and the pink haired boy threads their fingers together as soon as he finds Apollo’s hand. Alex pulls their entwined hands to his mouth and presses his lips against their knuckles. The gesture makes Apollo's chest flutter. He ignores it, chalking it up as some post-sex sensation he's too tired to comprehend (but that's not at all what it is), and distracts himself by running his fingers through Alex’s hair.

“Besides,” Alex adds, his eyes closing tiredly against the gentle scrape of Apollo’s nails against his scalp, “the sex wasn't good.”

“Oh?” Apollo grimaces subtly at the disappointment that creeps into his voice.

“It was _great_ sex, Apollo,” Alex murmurs with a sore-sounding little chuckle. He very faintly squeezes Apollo’s hand in his. “We always have great sex, you know that. Dumbass.”

“Oh.” This time, Apollo says it with a smile.

Alex laughs softly one last time before he readjusts the way he’s laying on Apollo’s chest, snuggling closer to him— no doubt to sap as much of his body heat as he can. After that, they're silent for a long time. Apollo listens as Alex’s breathing evens out while he himself stares at the ceiling. He can’t find sleep as easily as Alex appears to; his brain won’t shut off. It keeps swirling, a hazy mess of escaping euphoria being chased by a small spark of dread.

Apollo bites the inside of his cheek. “Hey, Alex?”

He’s afraid that Alex won’t answer, that he’s already asleep, but to his surprise, the pink haired boy in his arms responds. “Hmm?” Alex hums. He sounds sleepy.

“I— I’m really sorry to keep you awake, but I want to— I don’t know. Talk to you. For just a second, anyway,” Apollo whispers, and he sounds nervous and almost scared even to his own ears.

Alex pushes himself up to look at Apollo, having picked up on his tone. He hovers over Apollo and looks down at him with his brows knitted together. “What’s on your mind, my darling?” he asks gently and quietly.

Apollo hesitates; he spends too long staring up into Alex’s eyes, almost wishing he could crawl inside of them and stay there forever. When Alex raises one of his eyebrows, Apollo forces himself to focus again.

“I— I— I—” Apollo’s voice breaks on the last one, and he stops with a soft, annoyed sigh. He mentally curses himself for stuttering so goddamn much. “I’m… sorry.”

Alex tilts his head to the side just a small bit and runs his hand over Apollo’s chest, stopping when he reaches his shoulder. “I know you are, love.”

“No, Alex, I’m really really sorry— about everything— about using you, and keeping information about myself from you, about treating you like shit in the beginning, about absolutely _everything_ I may have done against you, including the shit I said to you earlier today, and I— I wasn’t— I wasn’t—” He stops and takes a short breath. Alex waits, his fingers gently tracing over Apollo’s skin as the god recomposes himself. Apollo swallows around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to do all of that. And… I wasn’t joking earlier when I said I wanted to fix us.”

“I know you weren’t, D— Apollo,” Alex repeats as his gaze flickers from Apollo’s biceps to his mismatched eyes. “Sorry. I’m still not entirely used to your name.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind it.” He pauses. “Look Alex, I… I know a guy,” Apollo says. Alex’s expression changes in a way that he doesn’t like, and Apollo rushes out, “I know a guy who— who works in couples counselling, and I— we could get an appointment and he can help us, like, _really_ help us Alex, and I want to do that, I really do—” His voice drops to something less than a breath. “But only if it’s something you want to do too.”

They fall silent again. Apollo can feel his pulse pounding in his throat and his ears as Alex lightly drags his nails over his biceps. He’s so goddamn scared that Alex is going to say no. If he does, Apollo has no fucking clue what he’ll do then, he really doesn’t.

It feels like centuries before Alex finally speaks. He doesn’t whisper, and his voice is serious. “You said you couldn’t lie, right?”

Although confused as to what this has to do with anything, Apollo nods. “Yeah. And I know when people are lying to me, too.”

“Do you really want to fix our relationship?”

“Yes,” Apollo breathes. “Gods, yes, I do.”

“Why?”

Alex sounds so small, and it makes Apollo feel a multitude of things. He feels guilty that Alex even feels the need to ask. It’s his fault, and Apollo knows it. But he also feels a rush of something else— something that makes him want to protect Alex. Something that makes him want to hold Alex and never let go of him again.

“Because I want to be with you, Alexander William Gaskarth.”

Alex stares at him for a while. Apollo stares back at him and holds his breath, anxious to see what Alex has to say next. Neither of them speak or move until finally, Alex half smiles.

“Okay.” He smiles a little bit wider. “Okay. We’ll talk about making an appointment with this guy of yours when we wake up tomorrow morning. Right now, though, I just want to sleep, because I’m tired and so so _so_ sore and you’re warm and comfortable and I want you to hold me because I missed you.”

“Okay,” Apollo echoes, also mirroring the little smile that’s perched prettily on Alex’s lips. “Go to sleep bubblegum.”

“I’m going to— and you better go to sleep too.” Alex leans down and very gently presses his lips against Apollo’s. The kiss only lasts for a few short seconds before Alex pulls back some few inches. “Goodnight.”

Apollo places his hand on Alex’s cheek and leans up to close the rest of the distance between them. He makes this kiss last a fair bit longer than the one previous, but not so long that it loses its sweetness as a goodnight kiss. Apollo pulls back and gently bumps their noses together before he settles back against the pillow. He had hoped it would make Alex smile, and to his pleasure, it does.

“Goodnight my love,” Apollo murmurs, stroking his thumb over Alex’s cheek.

“Goodnight my darling.” Alex bites his lip. “I love you.”

Apollo’s smile falters. “Alex—”

Alex turns his head to kiss Apollo’s palm. “It’s fine— for tonight, it’s fine. Just know that I love you. And… and that I’m glad you came back. I’m glad I let you in.”

“As am I,” Apollo says. Relief spreads through his bones, replacing the guilt that had filled the marrow when Alex had told him he loved him, as he watches the boy settle back against his chest. “Goodnight. Again. Sleep well, bubblegum.”

“I will. You’re here— I’ll sleep great. Goodnight, Apollo. I love you.”

Alex falls asleep not long after that. Apollo, however, stays awake just a little bit longer and resumes staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t think about anything in particular as he follows the familiar popcorn pattern above him with his eyes. His brain fleets from thought to thought: he thinks about how happy he is that he decided to come over; and how hopeful he feels about their future together; and what kind of future they’ll even have together; and then, finally, right before he falls asleep, about how he’s not at all looking forward to calling Eros’s office in the morning.

 

_**-fin-** _

**Author's Note:**

> Some thank yous:  
> Sam, for bein the other half of this au (and for low-key helping to write this)  
> Cam and Megan, for encouraging me to post this to get clout  
> And all my Instagram followers who put up with hearing me talk about this AU all day every day


End file.
